Watchstar

by Pamela Sargent

  At last she was empty. She lifted her eyes. Mausi was stretched out on her back, staring up at the sky. Daiya crawled toward her.

  The blonde girl was pale and stiff. Daiya lifted her head, then pressed her head against Mausi's chest. Her friend's heart was beating feebly. She held the girl. Mausi opened her eyes.

  —It's gone—she thought, so faintly Daiya could barely grasp the words.

  —It was never there, it was an illusion—Daiya clung to her friend, willing her to live.—It's all over now—she went on.—It's over, Mausi, you've lived through it—

  Mausi gazed at her solemnly. Her eyes shifted slightly and she stared past Daiya, as if seeing something else. Daiya entered her mind. They were in the village streets, made wider and cleaner by Mausi's memory. Her friend's parents stood in front of their hut; Oren was entering the courtyard. The vision faded; Mausi was slipping away from her. Daiya held her, trying to give her strength.

  —Don't, Daiya—Mausi thought.—I'm through it now, there aren't any more doubts—

  —But you never had any doubts. You were so mad at me when I showed you mine—

  —I had them—Mausi replied.—I didn't want to admit it. They're gone now. I can join God, I'm ready—

  Daiya shook her head.—You'll get better. We'll go back to the village slowly, you can rest on the way. I'll give you most of my food. You'll come back with me—

  Mausi's eyelids drooped.—No, Daiya, I'm too weak, my will is gone. Please don't be unhappy, this is my time, I accept it. I'm just sorry that you ... that you—Her thoughts were fading. She clung fiercely to Mausi's mind, trying to hold her in the world.—That you aren't changed—Mausi continued.—The ordeal didn't touch you somehow, you aren't—She gazed sadly at Daiya, then closed her eyes.—I pray that you will join me someday—The words were wisps, as light as air. Mausi's mind was gone.

  —Mausi—Daiya searched frantically, and touched nothing. She looked at the body in her arms. She was holding a husk, an empty vessel. Mausi was no longer there. The body slid from her arms and rested on the earth.

  Daiya moaned, unable to bear it. She clasped her hands together and gazed fearfully in Harel's direction. He was lying on the sand, eyes closed, chest rising and falling, his ordeal past; he was still alive. She looked toward Tasso, who was still.

  She got up and walked toward him. The solid body was stiff, the eyes open and staring, the pudgy face contorted. It was not lack of strength that had killed him, she realized, only lack of imagination. He had seen death and isolation and could not believe he would live, could not leap beyond it and imagine himself living. She leaned over him and closed his eyes.

  She went to Harel. He opened his eyes and sat up as she drew near. She sank to the ground and folded her legs, wishing she could feel something. She held out a hand.

  Harel drew back.

  —Harel—

  He stiffened. His blue eyes were cold and distant.—Harel—she thought again.

  —I don't understand—he thought.—You aren't like me, there is still something in you I can't name. You did not face the ordeal, you did not pass through the test, and yet somehow you are still here—

  —What are you talking about—She tried to touch him again, then realized he did not want her to do so.

  —You saw the darkness, you built a wall, and then, somehow, you stepped outside reality. You did not face it and come to terms with it and yourself, you are as you were. I see the dark spot inside you still, and something else, a walking, empty thing which spoke to you and showed you an illusion—

  —But, Harel—she answered desperately,—the darkness, that thing, it wasn't there, that was the illusion. I understood that and it vanished, it was never there. It was us, it was something we created out of our fear—

  —You did not face it and subdue the fear in yourself. That darkness was as real as anything in our world—He got up and began to search the area with his eyes. He went over to a pile of stones and picked up a water sack, apparently thrown there earlier. He tucked it under his belt, then turned away, striding toward the mountains.

  She hurried after him.—Where are you going?—

  —Where do you think I'm going?—His thoughts were harsh.—I'm going home to rejoin the Net, move into my hut—

  —Let's go together, then—She held out her arms.—Harel, don't look at me like that, it's me, we were going to live together, you stare at me as if—

  —Don't come with me! Follow if you like, but keep your distance—His mouth twisted.—Maybe you are the illusion, maybe you're not really there, but buried under the ground, maybe I'm only talking to your soul, trapped in separateness forever. Perhaps you're tempting me into isolation also. You should not be alive, and there you stand—

  —I am alive—she cried.—Didn't you want me to live, don't you care?—

  His eyes narrowed. A tear escaped one and rolled over his cheek.—I'll tell you the truth, I would rather you were dead and with the Merged One than alive and as afflicted as you are—

  She gasped, stepping back.—I'd rather you were dead than speaking to me this way—she thought. He winced. She longed to hurt him, strike him. Instead she felt as though she had damaged something inside herself with the words.

  —I'm going now—he said.—If you return to the village, the Merging Ones will know what to do, and then I might understand, but now just keep away from me—

  She stood still, unable to plead with him, feeling his rejection of her. There was a shield around him; even her thoughts could not touch him. She pushed against it with her mind.—Don't you care about me any more—she cried, stabbing the wall between them.

  He stumbled backward, away from her.—I can't love you now—

  She clenched her teeth.—Do you want me to go out there and tear myself apart like Oren? Is that what you want? Shall I go out there and stop my heart and stop my breath? You'd let me die this time, wouldn't you—

  His shield crumbled. She brushed against his mind. He rumbled like a thunderstorm, his mind at war with itself; he loved her, he was repelled by her, he was afraid.

  —Daiya—It was a cry and a curse. Harel spun around and continued toward the mountains. She watched him go. Her vision blurred, distorting the retreating figure.

  She turned back toward the bodies of her dead companions. A black bird sat on Peloren's head; another perched on Mausi, tearing at her chest. Still others sat on Tasso. It did not matter, she told herself; they were part of God's thoughts and entitled to their nourishment. Bodies that could not fertilize fields might as well feed birds.

  She lifted the earth, swirling dirt and sand in a funnel. The birds cawed as they rose, flapping their long wings. She buried her friends, covering them with stones, wondering how long it would take her to die.

  9

  Reiho's craft sat at the foot of a mountain, its dome mirroring the dark sky above. A reflection of the comet gleamed on the dome's surface; the comet had been an evil omen after all.

  Daiya had walked all night and most of the day. Sometimes she had prayed, and then remembered the graves. Her feet had carried her, not her will; they had trod the ground and carried her with them. The chill of the night air had given way to heat, and she had wondered which would kill her first, the heat or the cold. She had been unsure of where she was bound until she saw the vehicle.

  She came up to the craft and peered through the dome. The boy was asleep, sprawled across a reclining seat.

  Her nails bit into her palms. She should have killed him when she had the chance; she should kill him now, before he contaminated someone else. He had stepped carelessly into her world and destroyed it, at least for her. She had lost Harel, her parents, her village. If Harel, who had loved her, had turned from her, the others would do the same. She stared at Reiho, hating him. The craft trembled, rocking slightly on the ground. The boy stirred, throwing an arm over his head.

  She turned away, sick of death. She walked over to a heap of flat rocks, piled in layers like wheat cakes.
She opened her sack and drank some water; she had little food left. She knew she would have died if Reiho had not appeared, showing her what the dark being really was, but as things were, she might just as well be dead. He had left her a body and mind, but no life.

  She thought of Harel. He would have to find a path through the mountains; he would not have the energy to float over them. Perhaps she should have gone with him, following, trailing him. The loneliness would be bad for him; he wasn't used to it. Even having her nearby, with her dark spot, would have been better for him. Maybe he would have relented, maybe the part of him which still loved her would have won out. She knew him. He was not hard enough to turn away from her; not indefinitely, not if she had stayed near him.

  She sighed. She would probably have returned to her death. The thought surprised her; even now, she still lived, still wanted to live. If she had won Harel over, he would only have suffered more after losing her to the judgment of the Merging Ones. Better to let him construct his mental defenses and forget.

  She found herself remembering Sude. The memory stung. If she had let him go, instead of talking him into facing the ordeal, she could have asked Reiho to search for him; she could have saved him. He could have lived—if he could have borne the realization of knowing there were ones like Reiho. She had decided Sude's fate, not God.

  She looked out over the desert, the graveyard of her companions, its barrenness blue in the night. She thought of the village, nestling by the river, its inhabitants breeding more children who would be sent out to die. Her insides burned. She curled up on the ground, holding her belly. They spawned like the fish in the river, giving no aid to those thrown up on the rocks or shoals while swimming upstream, letting them die. Even the blind and crippled born to them on occasion were given no dispensation, were sent into the desert; their disabilities did not count, their minds were the same as others. She hated the village, not knowing if she hated it because her friends were dead or because she could no longer be part of it.

  She thought of Reiho. She had wished him dead. If she had the chance now, she would trade his life in an instant if it would bring the others back to life. He was the only companion she had left, and he was a thing. He could call himself a human being if he wanted and mimic human feelings, but he was no more human than the dirt under her, with his machines and his altered body and his soulless mind. That was her fate, her punishment, to be condemned to having a monster as a companion. Even that was better than complete loneliness ... or perhaps it was not. She wondered which was worse ... total isolation from others, or a feeble companionship with a being whose mind could not read hers, who could never know her, who would always be apart.

  She felt a sudden pang as she thought again of Harel and the village and her dead friends. She drew in a breath sharply as she remembered who and what she had lost.

  A shadow fell across her face, making the grayness over her eyes turn black. Daiya opened her eyes and saw the silhouette of a head and upper torso. She blinked. She still lived. Her heart still pumped blood, her lungs continued to draw in air and exhale it; her body went on, still clinging to any kind of existence.

  She sat up. Reiho knelt near her. “You came here after all,” he said. “I did not think you would.” A breeze blew, ruffling his black hair; she noticed that silvery threads, as fine as a spider's web, covered his scalp. She drew back. He pushed something in front of her face. She waved it away. “It is food. You must eat.”

  She gazed suspiciously at the silvery object. “It doesn't look like food to me.”

  “Try it.”

  She grabbed it and bit into the silver and spat. He took it from her. “Not like that.” He pulled the silver covering from it and handed it back. She held the orange-brown bar in her hand, then took a small bite. She chewed it slowly, tasting a sour fruity flavor. She swallowed, waiting to see if her stomach would reject it.

  At last she bit into the rest, finishing it. The food went down easily. Reiho sat near her. “Why did you come here, Daiya?”

  She glared at him bitterly. “I have no place to go now.”

  “But why? What about your friends?”

  “My friends are dead. Only one lived, besides myself.”

  Reiho was very quiet. Then he caught his breath; it sounded like a groan.

  “The thing you could not see killed them. They killed themselves. I cannot explain it to you. We had to face a test. They died. One lives, but he has turned from me because...” She waved an arm. She stared at the ground, recalling the bodies, seeing Oren's hand in the dirt. “I did not pass through my ordeal, so I cannot go back. You saw the bones there. Many here died in that place.”

  Reiho got up. He walked to his craft and stood with his back to her for a few moments. Then he came back to her and sat down.

  “You told me to go away,” he said softly. “You told me I could not help them. I left, and I did not even monitor my shuttle's sensors, because you said you could help the others by yourself. And now you tell me this. I cannot believe it. What are you?”

  “I didn't lie to you. You could have done nothing.”

  He hit the ground with his fist. “What kind of people are you? You must be mad. Why do you have these useless deaths? Now you have made me part of them, and I feel soiled. You sent me back here, when I could have helped.”

  “You could not have helped.” She had screamed the words. She lowered her voice. “How do you think I feel? I watched them die, you didn't.” She was shaking. “I told you to go. You should not have been here at all, you have changed everything for me. You think you can come here as you like, with your separateness and your strange ways ... this isn't your world. You have no right to be here. If you are going to meddle in another's world, then you must take the blame, or part of it, for what happens, and carry the guilt.”

  “This was once my people's world.”

  “It isn't now.”

  “We were driven from it.”

  “That makes no difference now. It is our world.”

  He looked down at the ground. Her desire to hurt him left her. “I only came because I was curious,” he said softly.

  “You have no right to be curious. The world is as it is. If I had not been curious myself, I would have had my life. You have changed it.” Her bitterness seemed to lodge in her throat, threatening to choke her. “I should have killed you.” He gazed at her apprehensively. “I could kill you now. But I think God must be using you to punish me, so I'll let you live.”

  Reiho hung his head. “Why did you come back?” she asked.

  He watched her cautiously for a moment before answering. “I was curious. I do not have another reason.” He sighed. “Even Homesmind is curious about Earth. When It learned I had come here...”

  Daiya grabbed his arm. “So now another will come here, and then another. You will all die if you do.” She trembled with anger and fear.

  His mouth twisted into a half-smile. “Homesmind cannot come here, It's not a person like me. It is an intelligence, a being, often I think I do not entirely understand It. It is the mind of our home, of the comet.”

  “What are you talking about? Does God speak through it?”

  Reiho shook his head. “No ... I am not sure of what you mean. We built Homesmind many ages ago, It began as a computer complex to control our life-support systems and store our knowledge, but It is far more complex now. I have told you.”

  Daiya frowned, puzzling over his words. Some of them seemed like gibberish. Twice he had talked of building minds; that had to be a mistake. She fidgeted, wishing it was easier to read him directly; listening to words was not the same. “I came back,” he went on, “because I was curious about these mountains.”

  “The mountains! Are they so strange?”

  “My sensors, the devices in my craft over there, have detected something, some sort of power source.”

  She thought about that for a moment, remembering the visions she had seen before her ordeal. “We have a story,” she said
, “a legend of the beginning. These mountains were touched by the Merged One, by God. A web was woven, and people were caught by it. They were no longer solitary selves, and in their fear they tore at one another, almost destroying themselves and the world. I have felt something strange in the mountains.” She watched him. The boy was concentrating. She felt his thoughts tumble about, but could not grasp them. His eyebrows went up and his eyes widened, as if he had seen something, as if an idea was suddenly clear.

  Her own thoughts came together, almost making her rise to her feet. She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “Even your machines sensed it,” she cried, the words tumbling from her lips. “You sensed the presence of God. It must be a warning to you. Give up your life of illusions.” She paused, recalling that she had given up her own life of dwelling in the truth.

  He said,"I don't believe that.” She gasped. “I'm talking about something physical, something real.”

  “Don't talk blasphemy,” she said quickly, recalling the times she had thought it.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. He peered fearfully at her. She could feel him sorting his thoughts, suppressing some, afraid to speak of others to her. “You said something about yourself before,” he said at last, “about your life changing, about not being able to go back to your home.”

  Something swelled inside her. She thought of Sude and Mausi and Oren and Harel. Something hard was in her throat. She swallowed and coughed, unable to speak.

  “What will you do?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don't know. I'll probably die.”

  “Isn't there anywhere else you can go? There are others on Earth; I could take you to them.”

  “You still don't see,” she responded. “It is the same everywhere. I would be cast out, probably killed as you would be also if anyone sensed your presence. If I am not accepted in my own village, a part of it, why would another choose to take me?”